This is the first post without a photo; not because I'm choosing not-to, but because I can't. I'm at Zenkichi restaurant right now in Brooklyn - it's a Japanese Brasserie? And one of my favorite restaurants.
It's my birthday today.
And I've chosen to spend it by myself.
Well that's not entirely true.
I spent it with Mikee, Rita, and Yuko.
My dinner however, I have chosen to spend it alone.
Earlier on in the week I thought that I was going to plan something - at least a dinner, but as my birthday neared I decided not to. I like to be quiet sometimes; I enjoy spending time alone. I wonder if it's a product of getting older, although I don't think that it is. I often find myself in experiences that I want to freeze in time for one reason or another; and today it's one of those days.
My food is getting cold.
But that's cool.
Because I want to reflect.
I'm 36 today.
And my initial thought is, "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, how did that happen?"
I don't want to suggest that I have issues with getting older because I don't, but as I do get older, even if only for one year I take a mental inventory of my life: business and personal. And I feel as I mentioned in my previous post, that I'm at a new beginning.
It could be that I'm being melodramatic. It could be that the weight of the food in my belly has offset the equilibrium in my brain. Whatever the reason is extraneous.
It feels good to be here.
I'm in space too small to be a cubicle or a closet with sake, udon, cod, and pork belly. Too much for one person to entirely eat, but seriously do I care?
No.
Yes, call it waste or whatever, it won't phase me tonight.
All that I care about is centering myself.
In food.
Light jazz is floating somewhere between the laughter and conversation that surrounds me.
"this place is amazing, dude."
"oh my gawd."
"it was like really caj." (ie casual)
"i hurt so bad."
"I know it's like his room."
"yeah, right, but it's so bad."
"and he was talking..."
"yeah but still -"
"it was so gross!"
Music to me.
I'm nearly done eating.
I think I've sunken into the arms of Gluttony
But we'll embrace tonight.
Tonight was truly a celebration of life.
Even though I spent this supper alone, I wasn't lonely.
I thought about a lot of things; about a lot of the super cool and loving people in my life.
Didn't I say "love is cool?"... Because it is...
I'm totally doing fine.
Happy birthday to me.
And many good vibes to you.

1 IS THE MAGIC NUMBER

2011 has already begun feeling like a hustle, but I'm entirely cool with that. I really believe that those who have a top-kind of recognition in our industry have achieved this by the sheer ferocity of their work ethic. Sure, luck sometimes shows her face and helps out, but for the most part, it's one's push to do better which directly translates into a positive outcome (as long as one's intentions are honest).

I was extremely fortunate as a young illustrator to land an international advertising campaign shortly after school, called Lavalife. This project was divided into more than 9 campaigns spanning about 9 years; the first of which was sold to the client as a complete buyout; which means that I no longer own the rights (copyrights or moral rights) to these particular images. It was both a blessing and a curse because the project truly provided me with a kind of financial freedom I had never known. I might be able to compare it to an expired television series that goes into syndication, in which the actors who are on this program benefit from the royalties of it. This campaign lasted for several years, and although it took only a few weeks worth of work per year to create the drawings, it constituted about one-third of my income, not only from the fee that I received for the new drawings, but also for the reuse of those images in some of the previous campaigns. Nowadays, my work with this client has ceased for the most part, and so has the money. And although I feel a bit pained because my pocket-book feels lighter, I also am a somewhat relieved that a new part of my career is beginning.

I've written in the past about new beginnings, and for a long time I thought that "a new beginning" was that flash moment in time, that denouement in a story where things are suddenly reshaped, but it's not.
Eat
Pray
Love to believe that life unfolds in this manner, but I don't buy it.

New beginnings occur over a period of time, and for me, I realized over the past few days that I have been in the midst of a beginning for several months now, which will, like any other part of one's studio practice, have setbacks and successes. The idea of embracing the possibility of failure is something that truly frightens me. There's no need to expand on this (and yes, I know, I've written about this before).
Success makes me happy.
Failure makes me sad.
But it's those teachings that rise out of failure --wait, let me digress here, and pull back a bit -- it's the information we discover in those uncomfortable moments within our studio practice that makes us stronger artists. It helps us to think more critically about our work; define our vision and to to clarify, and concretize our vocabulary so that our work can over time, become a style, or signature that a client and our peers recognize.

* The illustration above was drawn for Bloomberg magazine - a portrait of Deepak Chopra and Russell Simmons.

Ten Minutes Left. Where is Ryan Seacrest?
I think this may be the first new year in (17) years that I've spent at home, not actually alone -- Rita, who's my dog ,is here, but she's sleeping, deciding not to chime in the new year with me and my glasses of Veuve and Moet. Yes, I softened to the idea of curling into my space tonight alone - movies, cupcakes, vegetarian dinner, semi-dried up Christmas tree as my cohorts to see this year out, but I feel really good about it. Yeah, there are parties tonight, gatherings, fun times to be had, but for some reason I don't feel like partaking at all.
2010 was a strange year.
It was a rebound from 2009, which was one of my toughest years yet. I understand on an intellectual level, the notion of business cycles -- recessions and recoveries; however, I haven't been working long enough to have actually experienced business cycles (note the plural).
In recent years, I have begun to wean myself off of the idea of resolutely choosing to decide that I will be "more of this" and "less of that" in the near year. The idea of resolutions are silly to me. Rewording "it" to "New Year's Intentions" seem more palpable, but still, intentions are oftentimes just left as unresolved hopes. That said, I will still move forward trying to become a better person (which doesn't mean becoming more accommodating; in my case less apologetic - I've been endowed with a double whammie: I'm Chinese and Canadian:
Sorry.
Thank you.
Sorry again.
But becoming a better person means that I'm trying to have a better gauge; an honest gauge about what those things in life are that make me most joyous. Oftentimes, they are experiences instead of "things".
Just now, my mind suddenly drifted to an episode of Strangers with Candy (Warren Sutton, "I love your work" ... Steven Colbert... "I love you even more"... Amy Sedaris, I love that you love pizza even though that you might not. Still you're badass funny. I draw for the illiterate and those who can't read...)
I'm digressing.
Sorry.
But back to my point, 2011 is the beginning of "me pulling me closer to me."
Think Steven Colbert breaking up with Paul Donello in Strangers With Candy.
I'm pulling myself closer to me.
On my playlist are the rappers and songstresses from the eighties and nineties.
Special Ed, Big Daddy Kane, Jay Z, Amil, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah -- yes, I said Queen Latifah -- Xscape, TLC and Mariah.
As for movies, I'm on a hot tip right now -- I'm movie crazy (see Black Swan by the way, although I met a guy at a party 2 weeks ago that suggested that I watch a precursor of it). Breakfast Club, Say Anything, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Pretty in Pink (... Oh Ducky...), 16 Candles.
Books. I'm reading Daniel Pink's "A Whole New Mind" and "Seven Days in the Art World" by Sarah Thorton... although I'm out to purchase "For Esme - With Love and Squalor" by JD Salinger because I'm working with a dancer right now who was named after the character of this book (kowtows into the earth to Ryan for the hookup).
As for imagemaking. I have some thoughts of what to do in 2011. As I wrote in a previous post already, I have had a body of work circulating in my head for about 3 years now - now, it's time to put it into motion, and give it life.
Okay there are about 13 minutes left until the new year begins.
Props to us all for moving through 2010.
And as always good fortune for 2011.
Stay true.
Stay honest.
Be good.
And move forward.
Be in touch again in a few days.
All the best to you and yours.
Love is cool.
Happy New Year everyone.

NEW WORK






I haven't got much to write about today, except that I wanted to post up new work. Really, I should be updating my website, but it's faster to place images onto my blog instead. The past several weeks have been a bit loco work-wise, but I'm thankful for it. It's tough to understand one's own limits sometimes, and how it would be best to balance work and personal life. Actually, I've begun to include my personal list of things to do on my "to-do" list. I think it's easy for freelancers especially, to forget that there are so many things in life to do in addition to work. It's hard for us not to get caught up in the race to grow our careers and to capture all of those trappings that could be associated with it.
But maybe that's only me.
I try to pull back from the fever of work once in a while, to not get swallowed up by the daily routines, of the chore of clocking in and out.
day
in
and
day
out.
It can eat away at a person, allowing him or herself to forget what it means to be here.
What does it mean to be here?
Here.
She asked me last week what it means to be here.
I nearly forgot about it until a few days ago.
Friday night, when I was here, alone at home while he was working.
I've told him that I missed him when he works late.
But that's what I need to do in the meantime, he says.

I finished my deadlines for today.
Actually, that's somewhat of a lie.
I could be working on another assignment, but I have been working on commercial projects all weekend.
I think I need to work on some personal pieces.
I'm in a group show in January in the Lower Eastside at Krause Gallery. The show is being curated by the boys at Spank.
Spank you very much.
Will send you more details very soon.
In the meantime, I'm working on some sculptural pieces informed by an automatic drawing exercise that I've done in my studio. I'm having a seriously fun time, but I'd lie to you if I said that I couldn't feel the spit from the demons that are whispering into my ears.
Why are you doing this?
It's been done before.
You suck.
You're not a sculptor.
Take a break.
There's a pizza shop down the street.
Take a break.
No.
not yet.
not until I've remained in this uncomfortable place for a while longer.
I tell my students to learn how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Now, I have to do the same.

* The illustrations above are for Car and Driver, Bloomberg Business Week, Plansponsor, Runner's World, Playboy, and ESPN.

I was just looking at some photos of Cadaques, Spain and it seems so distant. I remember that it was hot, and the sand was rocky. The city from across the bay was white even at night, and I remember swimming and looking into the blackness in front, below, and above me and not seeing any stars, but only a yellow circle that rested within this blackness like the core of some fairytale egg. I just did a quick search of Cadaques online, and the photos that came up didn't align with the memories that I have of that place.
But then I think of the dinner that I had the night before I left, with Ana and Gonzalo, their son, and his friend, at a table underneath the tree that sat in the front yard of their house. On a branch hung a lamp that along with the moon became the only light at dinner. And I don't recall the dinner itself, not the food, the taste, nor the drinks, but rather it was the moments afterward that have burned into my blood, becoming memories that I oftentimes go to when I yearn for some distance in this life. I remember the darkness, the smiles and the singing. I remember Ana's guitar, the flourishes of her Spanish finger picking against the strings, and her voice floating above and beneath the nighttime air. I remember Gonzalo staring at her, his face softened by the moon and her song. He fell in love with her a thousand times over that night.

FOR GOOD






I've begun to work on some new personal work again.
I'm thrilled.
As I have mentioned many times over in the past, pursuing personal projects are paramount to my studio practice; it has always been that way, however it's only recently that I actually began to take some inventory of my process -- that is, those steps to grow my work, my technique, and my creative vision. My commercial work is steady now, and it feels good, granted it's not that every commissioned project that I do fulfills me wholly, but it does my wallet, and so I realize that in order to pursue those other projects of mine that I want to lift off of the ground, it's necessary to fund them somehow.
I have had a new body of work floating around in my head for the past 2 years, but for several reasons I have not been able to, nor have chosen to elaborate on them. I still waver at the notion of trying something new. I strain at trying to render transparencies at just the right opacity, and to select colours which are the proper temperature. But most of all, I try to follow those instructions, the criticism that I pass along to my students about their own work, that they should not be so precious about their work if they want to become better artists.
I wrecked my piece today, and it was incredibly difficult for me to do, but I did.
I wrecked my piece today.
It was incredibly difficult to do.
But I did it.
On purpose.
I spent about a day and a half working on this piece, but near the end of it, I just had to try something to see if it would work.
I used both water based and oil based media in one composition, which is not unheard of; however, it made the piece look jarring in some areas. It's difficult to tell in the image at the top (the white sections are done in enamel, and the rest of the picture is in water colour and ink) because the camera adds a kind of filter that helps to flatten and unify everything, but I'm really not happy with it.
Still it's not entirely a failure.
My time and effort spent was not in vain because I did learn something.
I needed to get my ideas onto the page somehow, and even though I may have skipped a few steps in planning, it was necessary for me to start immediately otherwise I think that I would have froze and lost the momentum to work on this piece.
I spend so much time planning my commercial pieces that when it comes to my personal work, I often have the reflex to create them automatically, without any rehearsal or rough draft. It feels good to do it this way.
And isn't that the primary reason why I chose to draw in the first place?

SIX A.M.

I woke up around 6am this morning.
I didn't mean to. It just happened.
Daylight savings, having been only a couple of days ago, throws me off every year. It takes me a while to adjust.
I feel a bit hungover, and tired.

This week is Illustration Week.
The American Illustration party is tomorrow.
The Society of Illustrators are holding their annual judging.
And a lot of illustrators are coming in from outside of the city...from out of state... and from out of the country.
I always look forward to this time of year because I get to see friends who I seldom see because they live so far away.

Funny that I would post myself singing and playing the guitar today.
Makes no sense.
But does it have to?
Don't be alarmed there is no chance that I'll be segueing out of illustration to pursue music.